


Contain

by Toft



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Enthusiastic Consent, Multi, Murder Family, Safer Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toft/pseuds/Toft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Abigail try something new with Will. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contain

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't warned for underage character, but Abigail's age is ambiguous in canon - she's going off to college, but she might not be eighteen, although I've chosen to believe she is.

"Really?" Will says, as Hannibal strokes down between Abigail's buttocks with his slick, gloved fingers so that he brushes where Will is connected to her, is inside her. It sounds to Hannibal like Will is attempting sarcasm, but it comes out breathy and full of laughter, and Abigail laughs with him, delicate tremors running through them both like they're one body. "Oh," Will whispers, like an afterthought, a private aside that's just for Abigail. She's on top of him, around him, and he's lying flat on his back in Hannibal's bed, his hair sticking to his forehead in damp curls. Abigail's hair is tied in a messy ponytail now, because Hannibal prefers it in a soft, loose curtain down her back but it was getting in her mouth and eyes. Her lips are flushed with kissing, and her eyes are fever-bright.

Hannibal leans over Abigail's shoulder and kisses her flushed, freckled skin there.

"Are you all right, Abigail?" he asks, and she nods, lower lip between her teeth. Hannibal has no patience for teenage inarticulacy, he insists that she be present and that she articulate consent, especially at this early, delicate stage with Will. He runs a fingernail delicately around the ridge of her scapula, then digs it hard into the soft skin covering her ribs under her arm, leaving a pink half-moon mark. "How do you feel?"

"Good," she gasps. Her breath is no longer coming in the whooping inhales of a few moments ago as she lowered herself down onto Will and he clenched his fists into the sheets and closed his eyes, his face locked down tight as if in pain. Her words come together in a rush of breath. "It feels good, I – you can do that, do that again. Will, you feel good. I like this, this feels amazing."

Hannibal kisses her again, rewarding her with a flicker of his tongue against the muscle of her shoulder. He is pleased. She begins to rock down on Will steadily again, at an angle comfortable for them both now, and Will makes a distant sound, something like a whine. Hannibal can reach them both from here, settled on Will's thighs behind Abigail, and he reaches around her to stroke Will's side, making his touch brisk and firm, predictable, and Will smiles up at him briefly, catches his fingers and squeezes them. Will needs grounding while Abigail needs to be lifted out of herself. It is a delicate balance. Hannibal smiles back, projecting reassurance even as he reaches down again and runs a fingertip around Abigail's puckered hole. He startles a surprised moan from her and, he surmises, an involuntary tightening of her internal muscles, as a second later Will lets out a startled yelp and laugh. 

"Warn me before you do that," he says. His voice is slow and sex-roughened.

"Mm," Abigail sighs, and she goes easily as Hannibal guides her forward to rest on her arms either side of Will's shoulders, holding herself up and giving him better access as she continues to ride Will slowly.

"Hannibal," Will says, his voice cracking, "Are you sure –"

"Ah!" Abigail's hips stutter as Hannibal's finger breaches her, and she seems unable to decide whether to push back or to flinch away, further impaling herself on Will. 

"Oh god," Will groans, half-laughing again. Will laughs frequently during sex, a nervous habit which Hannibal has found unappealing in the past in other partners, but Will is breathless and lovely like this, perpetually surprised when his body does not rebel against him, and his laughter puts Abigail at ease, so Hannibal tolerates it. More than tolerates it. Sex is a new sphere of existence for Abigail, with a set of social conventions she has learned, so far as Hannibal can gather, from the unspeakable American media and from whatever ignorant children she fumbled with in the back seats of cars and at basement sleepovers. He is reconditioning her, slowly. It is not an arduous task. In this as in other things she is hungry to learn, and her ignorance has a freshness to it that has not yet become tedious. In return he is gentle with her, in his way.

He twists and crooks his finger inside her, feeling his way towards the angle that she enjoyed the last time that they tried this (at her insistance, not his, although they have not done it quite this way before, with Will underneath her and inside her). "Yes," she grits out through her teeth.

Seeing her thigh muscles start to flutter, Hannibal reaches around to take her nipple between his finger and thumb and says, "You may come, if you like," and she does, with a low, animal cry into Will's shoulder that increases in amplification when Hannibal pushes another finger inside her. Will strokes her back and whispers nonsensical endearments into her ear as Hannibal listens with detached interest, and her wetness slicks her inner thighs where she is riding Will, Will's hips and belly, her perineum and Hannibal's hand. As she relaxes from her orgasm, her body welcomes his fingers in more fully, and he scissors them, stretching her as she moans and flexes over Will, little aftershocks trembling through her. 

"Hey, can you – uh –" Will laughs, then they are laughing together as Abigail supports her own weight again.

"Oh my god, sorry, did I crush you?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm – more than fine, you're amazing."

"I feel so _good_ ," Abigail sighs, and Hannibal hums, a pleased sound, partially to remind them that he is there.

"Hey," says Will, and his smile over Abigail's shoulder is all Hannibal could desire. "Feeling left out?"

"Not at all," Hannibal says, smiling, and he forces a third finger into Abigail. Her moan this time is gutteral, pained, and Will goes rigid beneath her as she clamps down and Hannibal's fingers press against the thin barrier of muscle and tissue of her vaginal wall, his penetration perceptible at last to Will from the inside even through the condom. Hannibal and Abigail's combined weight on him (although Hannibal is courteous, as ever, and careful of Will's knees) stops Will from thrusting up involuntarily, but his hips and thighs flex and he stutters out, "Fuck. That's – weird. Wow."

Hannibal keeps his fingers where they are as Abigail takes deep, regular breaths, as he has taught her. He rubs circles into her lower back with his free hand. "You are doing very well, Abigail," he says. She recovers herself enough to giggle.

"Don't come yet, Will, okay?"

Will has his eyes closed, and he is breathing through his nose, but he laughs a little at that too, at how pleased with herself she sounds, at how helpless he is.

"I'm good, I'm good." He looks over her shoulder at Hannibal again, meeting his eyes as he so rarely does, with one of those looks that makes Hannibal think of sunlight. "You've created a monster."

"I think Abigail has made herself everything she is," Hannibal smiles, and Abigail bends to kiss Will's collarbone to hide her face. 

"Oh, but you'd love to take credit," Will sighs, his eyes fluttering closed again as Abigail shifts on top of him and pushes back against Hannibal's gloved fingers, beginning to get impatient at last.

"Come on," she says. "Please."

"Abigail," Hannibal rebukes, knowing she can hear the smile in his voice. She makes a petulant sound of frustration.

"Please fuck me," she says. "In my ass. I want it."

Hannibal hears Will draw in a shocked breath, and his smile broadens.

"Since you ask so politely," he says, with only a hint of sarcasm. He will not always tolerate vulgarity from Abigail, but she knows him well enough to push a little at the boundaries of courtesy, now, and she has earned some special considerations.

He has been hard for a long time, and now that he brings his attention back to his own body, he feels the deep, hot ache in his groin, and has to concentrate on his breathing as he removes his glove and slicks on the condom, adding lubricant. He does not intend to hurt Abigail today. He breathes slowly, carefully, as he sheathes himself inside her. The condom dulls the sensation a little, her heat and tightness, but it is still necessary to place his mind outside the room in order to retain the control he needs. He thinks of the Crivelli Madonna in the National Gallery in London, the detail of the fly on the marble altar, its shadow on the canvas at odds with the perspective of the other shadows. He strokes his thumbs over the twin dimples in her lower back.

"How do you feel?" he murmurs into her ear, brushing her hair away.

"Full," she chokes out. Still maintaining his iron-tight control, he starts to flex his hips against her, his arms around her supporting her. She moans, and rides Will in tandem to his rhythm, her breath coming in short, deep gasps.

"Mmm – strong, I feel – I feel strong, oh god, it feels good –"

"This is how much your body can take," he murmurs. He lets her hear that he is breathless. "We are both here, Abigail. We are containing you. You are safe." She moans again, louder.

Will strokes her thighs, up and down with jerky, barely controlled motion, adding his wordless reassurance to Hannibal's words. The violence of Abigail's orgasm comes slowly, a storm rising inside her in the tightening of her muscles and the way her head falls back. She is moaning continuously now, an animal keening that sounds as if it is pushing its way out of her lungs with every breath. Pinned between them, impaled and fucked, she also holds them together, she is the center of their world, and Hannibal feels her gather that strength into herself as she begins to chant, "Oh god, oh my god, oh, oh –" 

Then she is jerking between them, wailing with the force of it over and over, and Hannibal is momentarily caught up in the power of it. Will is whispering again, hushing her with hands and words and staring up at her with awe, but his hands are trembling, and Hannibal can see how much effort it is taking him to hold back his own orgasm. Tension is thrumming through his body, strung wire-tight, and his hips thrust stutteringly up as Abigail's cunt tightens around him, pressing their cocks together inside her.

"Oh god," sobs Abigail, "don't stop," and Hannibal begins to fuck her again, slowly and deliberately angling so that his cock is lined up against Will's inside her body, and Will's eyes roll up into the back of his head.

"F-fuck – I can't –" he groans, looking desperate, and then his mouth opens in a silent cry as he arches up, exhaling in gasps as he climaxes. When she comes again seconds later, Abigail screams. In the echoing silence after, there is no sound but their breathing, and Hannibal closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Abigail's hair, drinking in the heady scent of sex, Will and Abigail and himself intertwined in sweet and salty notes. It is rich and he could breathe it forever.

They recover slowly, crawling back into themselves breath by breath. When Will begins to show signs of discomfort, Hannibal pulls Abigail up against his chest where she rests limply, making only a small sound of protest as Will extracts himself, ties off the condom and throws it over the side of the bed, then flops back against the pillows beside them. Hannibal winces.

"It's in the trash," Will murmurs without opening his eyes, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "I moved the can earlier."

Abigail nuzzles back against Hannibal, tilting her face up for a kiss, which he gives her, although the angle is awkward, and she slips her tongue against his sweetly, unselfconsciously, making a pleased noise in the back of her throat. He feels a swell of something like protectiveness for her trickle through him, and he tightens his arms around her. Her eyes are closed. She looks enraptured, totally turned inward to contemplate some secret ecstasy. When Hannibal finally looks away from her face, he finds Will watching him sleepily, smiling.

"D'you wanna come inside me?" Abigail slurs, still turning blindly against his throat like a plant seeking light.

Hannibal clears his throat. "I would like that very much, Abigail. May I?"

"Sure," she sighs, then her forehead wrinkles. "Just, not too hard, okay? Mm, just stay inside me."

Hannibal kisses the side of her jaw in assent. "Will, a pillow for Abigail, if you would."

They settle her down on her front, a pillow under her hips, and Hannibal strokes her back thoughtfully, finding his way back into his own arousal.

"Hey," Will murmurs, and although Hannibal is not aware of him having moved, he is behind Hannibal, arms coming warm around his ribs.

"Will," he says, meaning to protest, but his voice does not obey him, and it sounds hoarse, wanting. He is, suddenly, very close to orgasm as Will plasters himself stickily against his back and nuzzles the nape of his neck. The rush of return to feeling is intense, almost uncomfortable, and he abruptly does not want this closeness, this grasping feeling around his heart, but he is seeing in his mind the moment of Will's surrender again, feeling Abigail push against the limits of her body and find her strength, and he begins to move again, his pleasure clawing and tugging at his breath.

"Say my name," Abigail murmurs into the pillow.

"Abigail," Hannibal gasps into the back of her neck, and the urge to thrust violently into her, to pin her to the mattress and fuck her is almost overwhelming. He bites her shoulder as he comes. He does not make a sound.

Then he is back in himself, and Will is warm behind him and whispering, "Shh, you're okay, you're okay," and the idea that he should need reassurance is so laughable that Hannibal cannot help the husky, choking sound that comes from his throat. He clamps down on it immediately, but the loss of control alarms him enough that he allows himself to focus on the soothing touch of Abigail's thumb stroking across the web of his thumb over and over.

"Ow," Abigail says at last. There is an adult amusement in her voice that Hannibal finds charming, even over his chagrin.

"My apologies," he says, "Did I hurt you?"

"You bit me."

"Yes," he says, and extricates himself from her gently. She makes a small noise of discomfort, but does not protest. She rolls over and stretches her legs luxuriously, rolling from side to side and loosening her hips, yawning, then looks him in the eye suddenly. She is learning how to disconcert, he thinks, with mixed feelings.

"You like biting?"

Behind him, Will yawns, and slips down off the bed, pads out of the room, mumbling about going to get some water.

"You can bite me more, if you like. I liked it," she says, in that matter-of-fact way. He looks at her, and she looks back, nestled in his sheets. She raises an eyebrow. "You could bite Will too. I bet he'd like it."

He gets up, and goes to the bathroom to clean up.

*

Later, Hannibal returns from checking the house and the locks and finds Abigail and Will in his large bed, Abigail in the middle, Will turned to the outside. Will is wearing one of Hannibal's silk pajama shirts and his breathing is regular, gentle. Abigail's eyes are closed but she is not asleep, and she is rubbing the fabric of his shirt between her fingers sleepily, like a safety blanket, her body close to his. Her eyes open when she hears him come in.

"That was good," she says. It is a question. Hannibal turns off the bedside lamp and climbs into bed beside her, and she unhesitatingly tucks herself under his arm. He is pleased with her lithe warmth against him, he finds. He buries his nose in her hair and breathes in.

"Can we keep him here?" Abigail murmurs.

"Let him sleep," says Hannibal, just as quietly. "We will make him breakfast in the morning. Don't be impatient."

"Hmm," says Abigail, but her tone is muffled against his sleeve. Soon her breathing matches Will's in the darkness. Hannibal listens, and is pleased with his work.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Longwhitecoats for looking over this and telling me that Hannibal's penis was mysteriously absent from the narrative!


End file.
